Domestic Bliss
by M.R. Potter
Summary: Domestic life need not be bland, as Sirius is rather willing to show Hermione. Persuasion has never been so enticing, especially when compared to the delights of doing your washing outside. Lemon and lime, squeezed over a double of gin. Sirius/Hermione.


A/N: Hello, dear readers. How have you all been? We have just finished assignment and exam season here at uni so updating has been a bit of a chore. Now we are firmly in the balmy days of summer here in Auckland so there will be plenty of time for writing.

This one is a little lemony one shot that was inspired by a birthday weekend, featuring a darkened bar and eyes that sear through your soul. Sadly there was no proper resolution to that evening, but that's why we write, to have things go our way.

Enough chat, onwards!

"I have to say, he looks so much like jailbait that those girls in front of them should be arrested," Sirius said into Hermione's ear. The skinny singer certainly was pulling the ladies in, all of them screaming at the top of their voices and gesturing quite inappropriately towards his genitals. She grinned at their enthusiasm; however close she was to their age she could hardly find herself as enamoured with the singer.

"I'd love to see that on the front page of the Prophet tomorrow morning," she said, pushing back a few strands of Sirius' dark hair to speak into his ear. Her reply got a chuckle and they both looked to the stage to see the song finishing.

"We're Pan and the Neverlands, see you next time!" he squeaked over the magical sound system. More screams followed, and then it dulled down to a manageable roar when the rest of the band started packing up.

"Now that was something else," Sirius said, taking a sip of his beer. "It's not everyday you see such a skinny man pour himself into tight jeans so I'm going to count this towards a good evening," Hermione nodded, taking a pull from her rum and coke.

"You see men poured into jeans every day, just not skinny ones," Sirius shrugged.

Hermione had to smile at that. Sirius did have a penchant for jeans that hugged every curve of his legs, although they were much meatier than the ones she had just seen onstage. When he was feeling particularly mischievous he would wear his leather pants out. It never failed to garner attention, especially of the female kind. It was also fascinating to see who else's pants he'd charm off at the end of the evening, not just his.

That was Saturday night for them both. Their respective age groups had abandoned them to each other, Harry and Ginny being too wrapped up in their new state as married and Ron busy with photo shoots on location in Rome. Remus and Tonks were busy with the new little baby so that left the two residents of 12 Grimmauld Place with nothing else to do. The Roaring Dragon had been the closest pub available that, "I would wear heels and walk to," Hermione had suggested and Sirius went along with it. A drink was a drink, and the added bonus of it being within walking distance of his front step made it all the more attractive.

"I feel obligated to ask. How was your day?" Sirius asked.

She shrugged. "Spent it like I do most weekends I think. Did laundry. Washed my hair. Cleaned up my room. The usual. And you?" she said.

"Watched you accomplish all that. Jeez, I don't suppose you understand what a weekend is, do you?" he said, smiling in teasing. "I don't have time during the week to get them done and I like to do it at a slow pace," she said.

She'd left herself wide, wide open for that and the innuendo was right on his lips but she raised a finger and pointed at him. "Don't you dare Sirius," she warned, trying to look daggers at him. She failed, merely looking letter opener at most.

He raised his hands. "Alright, okay. But just saying. Why spend most of your weekend doing chores when you could be doing something more well, pleasurable?" he asked. He turned his whole body to face her now. The red lighting from the stage lit up the burgundy she had coloured her hair in and made her brown eyes stand out. She was nibbling a mouth painted with ladybird-red lipstick and it distracted him momentarily.

"You've obviously never hung your washing up in the sunshine," she said, brushing him off.

Hermione took another swig of her lager and glanced around the room. Truth be told, she hated bantering like this with him. Every comment he bounced off was laced with sexual promise, and she was killing herself by not accepting. She especially hated it when he tried to bait her into admission or getting her to leave her inhibitions at the front door. It was a nuisance to end those conversations partially naked and left wanting more.

It wasn't as if she was completely capable of being oblivious. Since both their rooms shared a common wall she could hear him and his conquests through the panelling and she knew that if he applied himself to her there would be a succession of nights involved and not just the one.

She had noticed that he'd gone quiet so she turned to look at him. He was looking at her intently, with a world of devious intentions soaking those metallic grey eyes. The dull lighting intensified that gaze, with every facet sparkling with mischief and an unspoken promise not to disappoint.

"What?" she squeaked out, all but about to throw herself into his arms. He reached up to touch a bit of hair that had fallen out of her hair tie.

"You have absolutely no idea, do you? " he smiled. She tried to be witty, really she did. Words seem to have failed her however and there was no way she could manoeuvre her way out of the question.

"No idea about what?" she gulped. He kissed her once on the cheek. "Never mind. I was just going to say that you are horribly domesticated for a woman who looks like you. You should get out more," he said.

"But I am out! I just witnessed a very thin man wearing the denim equivalent of a condom on both his legs and still he gets the female population wanting his genitals. Goodness knows if they're still functional," she said. That made him burst out laughing, very unusual for a man of his supposed savoir-faire.

"Only you can turn that into a laughing matter kitten, I am very impressed," he said, wiping the drink from his face and down his shirt.

The evening passed less eventfully, no more of their drinks spraying or anything else related. At some point Sirius put his glass down and declared that if he had anymore she would have to drive them home on his motorcycle and would rather walk home because Hermione "wasn't getting anywhere near that hot mess of steel."

She reminded him of course, that they had walked to the pub and he didn't need his bike.

"That's a sign if I knew one. We need to get home," she said. She pulled a bag of coins from his leather jacket, counted a few Galleons out and hoisted an arm onto her shoulder.

The front door of the house clattered against the opposite wall. "I'm perfectly capable of walking by myself Hermione, I don't really need your help," Sirius said, traces of a grin in his voice. "Really now?" she asked him, dropping his arm and watching him stagger to hold himself up.

"Yes really! I'll walk to the library to prove it," he said, shuffling unsteadily. Hermione knew he wasn't completely sloshed, but throughout the evening he had been increasingly flirtatious: a brush on her leg, his hand touching hers and his lips too close to whisper a joke. It would kill her to admit that she just wanted to touch him, hence the excuse. But to be fair, he wasn't fighting it either.

She met him in the library where he was stretched out on the chaise. "Sit here Miss," he grinned, patting the leather. Hermione complied, taking her cropped jacket off and laying it on the backrest. He leaned back to look at her profile with undisguised pleasure and perhaps just a hint of mischievous intent.

"Good evening so far?" he asked her.

"Better than spending it alone upstairs," she shrugged.

He ran a careful finger up her arm, tracing the line from her elbow to her shoulder. Hermione tried to will down the goose bumps that leapt up at the contact but she knew she would be lying to herself if she said that his touch was unwarranted.

"Tell me what you like about hanging up your washing in the sunshine," he asked her.

She could feel his eyes burning a hole through her profile so she tried to keep her voice straight. A challenge, especially after a few lagers. "The warmth, first of all. The sun feels welcoming after a long bout of cold. It wraps around you and pulls you out into the light. When I hang up my washing it flutters and it cools me off a little bit. I can smell the detergent on the fabric and everything smells so clean and fresh. My favourite part is when I take everything down. The smell of the sun lingers and when I go to bed in fresh sheets I can smell the outdoors," she described, sighing at the thought.

Sirius didn't reply, just looked at her some more. She felt his hand come up to brush the skin behind her neck and clasp it lightly. "As charming as that sounds love, I have to tell you right now that there are things that are infinitely more pleasurable than hanging up your washing," he said, moving closer. He pushed her hair off her shoulder so that her neck was bared for him.

Hermione looked round at him and saw the smoulder in his eyes. The heat that radiated from him was breathtaking and she didn't know if she could remember to breathe.

Sirius leaned forward and touched his lips to the beating pulse in her throat. She didn't move a muscle; if this was a dream then she sure as hell did not want to spoil it by moving and waking up. His lips caressed the pulse under the skin whilst his hands roamed the skin on her back and stomach. "A well-placed kiss on your person feels better, especially when applied with precision," he breathed, caressing the beating skin. He heard her breath stop momentarily and resume again in much longer and slower paces.

She wasn't responding; a sleepy grin had taken over her mouth instead of the disdainful pout that puckered her lips when she spoke to him. He smiled to himself: surely getting her to look like this was this easy.

He lingered on her neck for a while longer, caressing it with long, lazy strokes of his tongue and little nibbles around her collarbone. She loved every moment, turning her neck this way and that so that he did not miss a spot. In that pleasurable haze, Hermione was battling with herself to show a little more restraint but her carnal centre begged her to finally take what he had been dangling in front of her for so long.

Sirius' hands started travelling to the straps keeping her top up. He slid them off her shoulders with dexterity and shimmied the garment off her. He was met with sun-browned skin and a smattering of freckles across her flesh. He could even see faint tan lines where her clothes covered her. Never before had he seen a body look so real. He had been with countless varieties of perfection before, each of them pampered and perfumed to befit a lazy housecat lifestyle. What he was looking at now was a working woman, one who did her own washing and was in every way, more realistic than the painted dolls of his past.

He cupped her breasts reverently. They were encased in a grey and cream lace bra and he could see that she was begging him with her eyes to touch her there. "You look absolutely stunning," was all he could manage. What more could he say, in the presence of this domestic goddess.

Before a protest could form, he had the snap undone and his mouth feasting on her breasts. There was not an inch he spared from his swirling tongue and inquisitive teeth, not even the most insignificant little mole on the underside of her left breast was abandoned. Hermione could not stop thrashing from his attentions. He was every bit as good as she imagined him to be, maybe even more.

"Sirius, gods that feels so good," she breathed. He drew back to meet her face. Her pupils had dilated to nearly black and her mouth was slightly swollen from where she had been nibbling on her lips. He was still rather buzzed from all that he had to drink, so with genuine smugness he met her gaze and said, "Wait when I'm fully sober. This is unfortunate child's play, me being clumsy."

A laugh slipped her lips. "Should I be scared?" she asked, teasing in her tone. He nudged his hips against her so she could feel for herself that she should indeed be terrified.

"It'll be slow and absolutely torturous," he grinned. He leaned forward and kissed her then, closing his eyes for a moment. Her lips were warm and soft, just as full and as voluptuous as he had always imagined them to be. They were caressing his softly, even going as far as taking his bottom lip in between and pulling a little bit. He pulled back and touched noses with her. "And if you push me, I will need to restrain you," he said.

She lunged forward and kissed him some more. "Oh shut up already," she said.

Their kiss exploded in a flurry of movement and clothes hitting the floor and before any of them knew it Hermione was straddling Sirius with his still-clothed erection brushing deliciously beneath her moist warmth. Her insides throbbed at the feel of his hard and stiff cock, knowing that quite soon they would be clasping at it with as much strength as it could possibly muster.

She still hadn't taken off her panties, but to Sirius they were nothing more than a fragile lace barrier between himself and heaven. One strong tug and they were nothing but shattered lace next to his tartan socks.

She was fully naked now and by gods she looked exquisite. The dull lighting in the room burnished her burgundy hair and made her look absolutely otherworldly. There was no better way to worship this wondrous deity than to be beneath her, he decided. As long as she was happy, anything was all right.

Sirius could feel her more sober hands working off his briefs and freeing his erection. The draught of cool air hit the engorged member and he sucked in his breath. Her warm heat quickly replaced the cold as she sat back down on him.

"As much as I like staring at you from down here…" he began, trying to hint by rocking his hips slightly. She merely smiled at him, a teasing sprite playing with her mortal and her hands reached between them to position him at her entrance.

"I think I've found something else I like a little bit more than hanging up my washing," she winked, looking him in the eye as she sank down on his length. For the barest moment the voice in his throat stuck as he was enveloped completely by her. It was the most incredible feeling of molten heat and velvet smoothness. He could never have anyone else, not after this.

Instinct took over them both. There was no more teasing, no more smiles, just a deep and primal heat that scorched them both, driving them in that base dance of back and forth, up and down, in and out. Hermione was leaned forward now, grabbing the back of the lounge as she rode Sirius hard, not giving a damn about his pleasure but greedily taking from him.

Sirius on the other hand was trying to hold back. This sensation of Hermione was so new to him that he wanted to savour it for as long as he possibly could. She was relentless in her pursuit of pleasure and he drew the same satisfaction from watching her spend herself on him. He urged her on with equally demanding thrusts, encouraging her forward until…

…one final arch forward propelled them both in a pleasure-induced haze. His arms came up around her back to hold her against him as his hips jerked uncontrollably with his orgasm. She was resisting him, pulling upwards as her own climax consumed her and her hips rocked forward trying to prolong the sensations that weakened them both.

Hearts pounding, breath slowing and consciousness returning they both rearranged themselves on the lounge so that Sirius was cradling Hermione against his chest, idly brushing strands of her hair away from her face.

"What on earth was that?" Hermione asked, her voice still wobbling from earlier. Sirius smiled contentedly. "What you should be doing on the weekends instead of your bloody washing," he joked.

She reared up to rest her chin on his chest, a feline grin firmly in place. "I could regress," she taunted.

His hand slipped onto her back to graze the skin there with his nails. "None of that until I can sober up and give you a proper thrashing," he said.

Hermione kissed him, being sure to bite hard on his bottom lip. "You're on."

END

A/N: FINALLY finished this! Thanks for sticking with the stories; I know that I am a right pain in the arse when it comes to updating. Keep your eyes peeled for updates on The Deal, there is much conniving to be had!


End file.
